Survival Methods
by Invisible Irene
Summary: Even after the end of the War the Malfoys suffered with its consequeneces.


**AN: I honestly see no reason for Lucius not to be sent back to Azkaban after the War. Even if the Malfoys supposedly changed sides (which I do not believe either, but if I get started on that I'll ramble infinitely), he was still a prison escapee and should be forced back to jail. Of course all the stuff they had in their favor would make his imprisonment time much shorter, thus not distressing us fans so much, but not wasting the drama of it all either ;)**

**And oh, God, when you spread around 800 words on a standard-sized computer screen it makes the thing look so painfully short *tear***

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Survival Methods

That was not an easy night for Narcissa. Every toss and turn in that dreadfully unwelcoming half-empty bed was like yet another needle being stuck in her weakened heart. While most of the wizarding world cheered with the end of the war, she was cruelly forced to grief for her imprisoned spouse. The three of them had already paid for ten times the crimes they had committed, but the people at the Ministry still pretended not to notice that they were not punishing a criminal, but only heartlessly leaving their family without a husband and father.

The lonely wife lay awake among her silks and furs on the smallest hours of that chilly night that was now actually morning when rapid and insistent knocks on the bedroom door reached her ears, interrupting her woeful reveries.

Alarmed, Narcissa got up and, having grabbed her wand from under her pillow and lit a candle, she walked toward the door and disabled the charm that now kept it magically locked for safety reasons, as the few Death Eaters who had managed to escape death or imprisonment and the radical Light supporters were a threat to the Malfoys, who had been cowardly enough to not even pick a side.

Although the flame's light was dim, it was enough to make her gasp at what stood before her: the shaking, ghostly pale figure of her own son. It was not extremely surprising that he should be plagued with nightmares after those two immensely traumatizing years and that was not the first time she had been awaken like that either, but each time Narcissa was reminded that the events that had taken place in that period were not merely twisted fruits of her imagination, it was a new shock to her.

Despite wishing she could fall to her knees and bawl in agony until her voice was gone, she did her best to stay strong and put an arm around Draco's unhealthily thin frame, guiding him into the room and the two sat on the bed. Both of them finding words completely unnecessary, he rested his head on her shoulder and she put both her arms around him, gently rubbing his left arm until his loud sobs subsided a bit. He tried his best to keep his weary eyes open and glassily fixed on the damask patterns of the wallpaper in front of him, for the sight of it was much more appealing than whatever horrors awaited him behind closed eyelids.

Narcissa kissed the top of his head and he buried his ice-cold face between her neck and shoulder, focusing on the soothing hands that had now moved to his back and hair. She was horrified to find that the slightest brush of her fingers down his torso allowed her to feel the small bumps of ribs lacking flesh to cover them.

To Draco, though, nothing in the world felt better than the warmth of those fingers, especially on terrible nights like that. And yet he couldn't bring himself to stop the now mostly silent tears rushing down his sunken cheeks, couldn't keep away the images that frightened him in a such a way that, before finally gathering the courage to get up and walk to his mother's bedroom, he would lie frozen in bed, suffering with the exploration of scenarios that drove his mind into psychosis.

Thank Merlin the comforting sounds coming from Narcissa's lips – a response to the mad half shivering, half hissing ones from his own – brought him back to reality. At last she motioned him to lie down beside her, adjusting the covers comfortably around them and then putting her arms back around his body.

She tangled her hand once more in his platinum strands, moving them slowly until his breathing evened and the eyes beneath those sweaty, messy locks closed. Not before she was sure he was asleep did she blow out the candle on the bedside table.

In the morning, Narcissa opened her eyes to find a tranquil sleeping body next to her and took pride in both of them for having survived one more day in that evil world that seemed never willing to give them any peace.


End file.
